


tales of wayhaven

by lesbianbeau (lauraelas)



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Children, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Detective - Freeform, Gender-Neutral Detective, Jealous Ava, Mom Farah, Nat vs. Technology, Other, POV Second Person, Polyamory, Pre-Poly, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraelas/pseuds/lesbianbeau
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles for various characters and pairings fromThe Wayhaven Chronicles. Requests taken onTumblr.Update -“This is just great,” Priya grumbles. “So AvaandMorgan don’t like me.”“It’s not that they don’t like you,” Farah says. “It’s more that they don’t like humans. As like, a species. Since you are one, they don’t like you by default.”Priya frowns. “Oh. Cool. That makes me feel much better.”





	1. tech support

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pretty sure i've played this game over 10 times now. it's addictive, okay.
> 
>  **edit:** i decided to make this a collection. from now on, any wayhaven fic i write will be added here. :^)

The Detective wakes up to the sound of muffled cursing, coupled with the annoyed click of a tongue. They crack their eyes open, vision blurry, and startle when they see someone is hovering over them. Then they take in the dark hair tied into a low bun, tendrils of it having escaped and framing soft features. It’s Nat. Their panic abates, just like that.

Nat looks up from the phone clasped in her hand, her knotted brow smoothing out when their eyes meet. “Oh, did I wake you?” she asks sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the Detective says, sitting up on the couch and stretching their arms. “I shouldn’t be sleeping in the middle of the day, anyway.” They turn back to Nat. She’s still towering over the couch, but her hand holding the phone is lowered, as if to hide it from sight. “Uh… what were you doing while I was sleeping?”

Nat’s free hand comes up to rub the back of her neck. “I might have been… taking a photograph of you,” she says. Their cheeks turn pink at the words, but Nat’s too busy glaring down at her phone to notice. “If this thing would  _work_ , that is.”

The Detective rolls their lips together in an attempt to stifle their laugh. Nat and her inability to work technology is not much of a secret. It’s actually kind of adorable to witness. “Want me to take a look at it?”

Nat shrugs and hands the phone to them. “Maybe you’ll have better luck,” she says. “Every time I try to take a photograph, it returns me to the…home page.”

“Home screen,” they correct her as they tap the camera app. It opens without a problem. They lift the phone and take a picture of Nat, who blinks in surprise when the flash goes off. The Detective fights a smile. “Looks like it’s working just fine.”

“What?” Nat sits next to them on the couch, their arms touching when she leans in close to see the phone’s screen. “How did you do that?”

“I pressed this white circle here,” the Detective explains, trying and failing to ignore Nat’s close proximity. “You were probably pressing the home button instead, which is why it kept taking you back to the home screen.”

She huffs, shaking her head. “I’ll never understand technology.”

The Detective laughs. “Well, you don’t need to,” they tell her. “You’ve got your very own tech support right here.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Nat smiles wide at the words. Her brown eyes meet theirs, softening. “I guess I do,” she says fondly.


	2. drunk and disorderly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a just repost of the morgan fic i wrote a few days ago.
> 
> requested by anon!

The Detective’s arm is slung over her shoulder, and she’s pressed against her side, mumbling about things Morgan doesn’t care to listen to. Her breath reeks of alcohol, but Morgan has to admit the Detective’s flushed features are amusing.

All amusement rushes out of her when Morgan thinks back to the events that transpired moments ago, though. It was supposed to be a fairly boring evening—the Detective, her bobble-head friend, and the Unit had gone to the bar to celebrate the Detective’s birthday. Farah  _insisted_  on it, and the Detective agreed quickly enough once her friend joined in.

The trouble started when some creep at the bar counter started hitting on the Detective, refusing to take no for an answer. Morgan grits her teeth just thinking about it. She’d taken his wrist in her own, and really, it would’ve been  _easy_  to snap it like a twig...

Fingers stroke at her jaw, distracting Morgan from her violent thoughts. She turns her head to see the Detective peering over at her, eyes unfocused. “You shouldn’t clench your jaw,” the Detective chides, her words slurred and nearly incomprehensible, “s’not good for your teeth.”

Despite herself, Morgan finds her lips twitching into a smile. She fights against the impulse, rolling her eyes instead. “Whatever.” They reach the steps to the Detective’s house, and Morgan helps her up them, sighing heavily when the woman keeps stumbling. “You got your keys?”

“Uh…” The Detective pats her pockets, her brow scrunched up, before producing the keys. She attempts to unlock the door, only to miss the keyhole completely. She tries again. And again.

Morgan growls, swiping the keys, and unlocks the door herself. Not for the first time, she regrets volunteering to take the Detective home. This isn’t worth the shit Farah will give her for it later.

It takes time for them to get to the bedroom. The Detective nearly falls on her face twice, and the second time Morgan thinks hard about catching her before she does. Thankfully, they make it, and the Detective mumbles a goodnight before faceplanting onto the mattress.

“Fucking  _finally_ ,” Morgan mutters to herself, her hands on her hips. She’s about to walk out when the Detective turns on her side, blearily looking up at her.

A small smile plays upon the woman’s mouth. “Thanks, Morgan,” she slurs. “M’hero…” Then her eyes close, her mouth slackens, and her heartbeat slows. She’s asleep.

Morgan purses her lips, glancing away, before she shuffles closer. She takes off the Detective’s shoes and grabs the blanket at the end of the bed, draping it over the slumbering woman. Morgan  _does not_  tuck her in.

Then, with one last, long look, Morgan leaves the room. After a moment, she grins to herself. 

 _My hero_. She’s never going to let the Detective live that down.


	3. you and i know loyalty (but she don't pay it no mind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon! title inspired by chromeo's jealous (i ain't with it) though the song has nothing to do with this fic lmao.
> 
> if ava's ooc, it's because i'm having trouble pinning her voice down rip.

“Keep grinding your teeth like that and soon you won’t have any left.”

Ava starts at the voice; she’d been so focused on the scene before her that she neglected to pay attention to her surroundings. She turns to see Tina standing beside her, looking vaguely amused.

“I wasn’t grinding my teeth,” Ava attempts.

Tina’s brow raises. It’s clear she doesn’t buy it. “Uh  _huh_ ,” she says. “That’s why I could hear it from across the room.”

Ava hears a snort come from the direction of the Detective’s office. The others must be listening in on the conversation. She fights the urge to scowl.

Movement in the corner of her eye invites her attention. Ava turns her head to see Bobby Marks and the Detective deep in conversation over a news article. Marks has taken a step closer to the Detective, smirking widely. Ava gives in; her mouth twists into an impressive scowl.

“As cute as this jealousy shtick is,” Tina continues, “you have nothing to worry about. They have  _no_  feelings for Bobby Marks anymore. Trust me, I’d know.”

Ava huffs. “I’m not worried about that,” she says, annoyed. 

Tina grins. “Oh, so you  _are_  worried?”

 _“She walked right into that one, didn’t she?”_ Farah cackles. Even Morgan snickers around her cigarette.

Nat sighs.  _“They’re having a conversation among themselves. Can we give them some privacy?”_

 _“Nope,”_ is Farah’s gleeful response.

“I just...” Ava tightens her jaw, her arms coming up to cross defensively over her chest. She eyes Marks and the Detective, who are still talking. Marks keeps flirting with them, though the Detective barely bats an eyelash over it, ignoring her attempts. “I’m keeping an eye on Marks. That’s all.”

Tina makes an ‘o’ with her mouth. “ _Ohhh_...” She grins mischievously. “I see. That makes more sense.”

Ava narrows her eyes. “Yes. Now, you should return to your  _work_ , Officer Poname.”

She holds up her hands. “Alright, alright. Don’t have to tell me twice.” Tina spins on her heel and walks back to her desk, tossing over her shoulder, "Have fun on your stakeout."

Ava furrows her brow in confusion. “I’m not...” The meaning behind the words sinks in, and she sighs heavily. Shaking her head, she turns back, only to spot the Detective approaching her. Ava straightens up. “Everything alright?”

The Detective nods, looking tired. “Bobby was... Bobby, but yeah. I sorted things out.” They rest a hand on her arm, and the tension within her dissipates, just like that. “It’s lunch time. Want to drop by Haley’s Bakery with me?”

Ava smiles. It’s small, but genuine. “I wouldn’t mind that, no.”


	4. visiting hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!
> 
> i'm sure it's obvious, but this is set directly after book one.

The creak of the door opening alerts the Detective to a visitor. She looks up from the book she was reading, a smile lighting up her features when Farah peeks her head inside. “I come bearing gifts,” she singsongs, holding up a box of chocolates.

The Detective laughs, closing her book and setting it aside. “Those for me?” she asks.

“’No, they’re for Elidor.” Farah rolls her eyes. “ _Course_  they’re for you. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to having a few…”

The Detective narrows her eyes on the vampire. “Just for that, I think I’ll eat them  _all_.”

Farah forgoes the chair next to the bed and plops down on the edge of the mattress. She sets the chocolates in the Detective’s lap. “How are you holding up?”

“Well, I don’t wake up in the morning aching all over anymore.  _Don’t_  even think about it,” she adds, noticing the teasing gleam in Farah’s eyes.

“About what?” Farah asks innocently, though the wicked grin she’s sporting gives her away.

The Detective shakes her head. “ _Anyway_ ,” she says, “a few more days and I’ll be out of here. Thank God.”

“Good.” Farah’s smile softens into something more genuine. “It’ll be nice to see you outside of a hospital bed for a change. And Elidor won’t be around to kick me out.”

She laughs. “You miss seeing me at the station that much?” 

“Yeah,” Farah answers without hesitation. She reaches out and rests a hand over hers. “I don’t like having a time limit on how long I can see you.”

The Detective’s stomach flips. After a moment, she turns her palm over, intertwining their fingers. Farah doesn’t pull back; her smile widens instead, eyes warm and locked with her own.

For the rest of Farah’s visit, as they trade jokes and stories, their hands remain clasped, resting on the bedspread.


	5. "i can't stay away from you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

“I can’t stay away from you,” Ava says.

Said by someone else, the words might have been a sweeping declaration of love. Coming from Ava, they’re an admission of guilt. Her brows are furrowed, the hand by her side clenched into a fist. The moment the words come loose from her mouth, Ava breaks eye contact, staring at a distant point over her shoulder.

The Detective stifles a laugh. Their exhale becomes a sigh instead. They know this song and dance by now, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t tired of it. One step forward, ten steps back. That’s what this feels like.

“You can’t stay away from me,” the Detective begins, a wry twist to their lips, “but you can’t stay  _with_  me, either.” Ava looks over at them, her jaw clenching and unclenching. She doesn’t respond. “Am I wrong?” 

“I’m…” Ava trails off for a beat before continuing, her tone stripped of emotion, “I was stationed in Wayhaven by the Agency, in a professional capacity. There is no room for…” Her brows scrunch in frustration.

“Us?” the Detective supplies, bitter.

“This,” Ava says. A vague word for a vague relationship. Fitting.

They glance down, nodding. “Right. Of course. I won’t trouble you over this again then, A-Agent.”  _Ava_ , they wanted to say, but she’d brought up the wall of professionalism, the one she hid behind every time feelings bubbled to the surface. So they swallow down all the words they want to say, feeling them settle in their belly like knives. “If you’ll… excuse me.”

The Detective turns in the opposite direction and walks, with no idea of where their destination is. They just want to be away from Ava and the emotions she produced in them. They resist the urge to look over their shoulder at her.

Had they turned around to look, they would have noticed Ava’s fist tremble by her side, stifling the urge to reach out and stop the Detective in their tracks. She lets out a breath, staring down at her feet, before she forces herself to walk the other way.

 _It’s better this way, for the both of us_ , Ava tells herself, but the words ring hollow.

They always do, lately.


	6. "why haven't you kissed me yet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

The Detective, lying back in their desk chair, rubs their eyes and sigh heavily. It was one of those days where they had shut their alarm clock when it rang, only to succumb to sleep and end up late to work. Farah had teased them about it, which they’re used to, but Ava’s disapproval had been palpable; she’d expressed it the moment the Detective dragged themself into the station.

Now, with their work open on the computer and spread out over their desk, the Detective can  _feel_  a migraine forming in their temple. They suppress another sigh. On days like these, it’s best to power through the fatigue.

Just as the Detective thinks of returning to work, a hand appears in their line of sight, setting a cup of coffee on their desk. They follow the stretch of arm up to Farah’s smiling countenance. “For the record,” she says, “getting you coffee was my idea. I didn’t ask Nat what would cheer you up. Obviously.”

The Detective chuckles, already reaching for the cup. “Thanks, Farah,” they say genuinely. “I can’t believe I forgot to brew some this morning.” They must be more tired than they thought.

It’s impossible  _not_  to smile when they take that first sip. Not because of the coffee, not entirely—they’re touched by Farah’s thoughtful, unprompted gesture.

Farah watches them, perched on the edge of their desk. “How is it? It’s my first time brewing coffee; I don’t care for the stuff myself,  _way_  too bitter. But I’ve watched Nat make it enough times.” The Detective fights back a smile while listening to her ramble. Was Farah… nervous?

“The coffee’s brewed perfectly,” they reassure her. “Just what I needed to turn the day around.”

Farah nods, looking relieved, before she cocks her head to the side. “Speaking of turning the day around…” A mischievous smile lifts her lips, but the Detective thinks nothing of it, too busy taking another sip of coffee. Really, you’d think they’d know better by now. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

They choke on the coffee. Thankfully, it doesn’t fall on their clothes or papers. “Wh-What?” they sputter.

Farah rolls her eyes, though her smile only widens at their reaction. “We’re _dating_  now, Detective. I think hoping for a good morning kiss is well within my rights. Plus, we’ve got your office to ourselves at the moment…” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

Their cheeks flush. “You’re impossible, you know that?” The reprimand is weakened, however, by them getting up and walking around the desk. Farah watches them approach gleefully, tilting her face up in anticipation.

“You love it,” Farah teases, grinning.

They laugh, cupping her jaw, and lean down to seal their lips over hers. Before they can even think of pulling away, Farah’s arms wind around them, deepening the kiss. They lean into it, letting her take the lead.

 _I do_ , they think, fatigue from the morning a distant memory now.  _I really do_.


	7. "i thought you didn't want me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!
> 
>  **warning** for some sexual content. nothing too explicit, but still. also, i didn't realize i wrote this in second person until i posted it on tumblr, tho i figure it'd be kind of awk in third person, so.

“I thought you didn’t want me.” The statement is followed by a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smirk. You’re unable to hold back a scowl.

“Shut up,” is all you say, before you’re crowding in her space and claiming her lips with your own. Thankfully, Morgan obeys, though it probably has more to do with the fact that she’s just enjoying this, instead of actually listening to you.

Her fingers thread through your hair none-too-gently, tangling in your locks and pulling at your scalp, but you don’t mind the sting. Welcome it, even, along with the bruising force of Morgan’s lips. Her other hand is at your hip, and quickly worming its way up the hem of your shirt, claiming the skin underneath. Her palm is warm against your spine but it still elicits a shiver.

You hate Morgan. You really do. It’s no secret, either. Your clashes are often heated, though typically one-sided, rendering the rest of Unit Bravo in various degrees of amusement and annoyance. It’s hard to remain professional when Morgan refuses to listen to you; she just blows cigarette smoke in your direction, regardless of the situation, her features composed.

There’s no playfulness in her gestures or words, no satisfaction of having pushed your buttons, which only makes you more incensed.

And Morgan knows it. You know she does.

For some reason you can’t explain, however, you’re still attracted to her. Which makes your relationship with her so confusing. You want to write her off, to ignore her, but you can’t. She makes it impossible.

Which is how you find yourself kissing Morgan, your shoulder a taut, unforgiving line. You back her against the wall, your hands dropping to her jeans and making quick work of the button there, only for her to turn you around and pin you there instead.

“You are,” you manage between furious kisses, unzipping her jeans at the same time, “so fucking,” you shove at the material, tugging them down, “ _annoying_.”

Morgan leans back, breaking the kiss—she pays no attention to your low growl of discontent, the  _asshole_ —to grin wolfishly. “Right back at you, sweetheart,” is her response, before she pushes your hands away and drops to her knees.

You  _hate_  Morgan. You really do. You think this even as you sink your fingers into her hair and throw your head back, moaning.


	8. tangled in bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

The Detective wakes up to the sudden, aggravating blare of their alarm clock and an arm tightening around their waist. A voice mutters in their ear, groaning, “Ugh, turn it  _off_.”

Wincing, they crack open their eyes, spot their alarm clock, and reach out, slapping their hand over it. Then there’s merciful silence. For a moment, the Detective basks in it, before they sigh. “We need to get ready for work,” they say.

Farah, curled around them, an arm still wound around their waist and a leg thrown over their hip, whines. She wiggles closer, her breath warm on the back of their neck. “ _No_.”

The Detective can’t help laugh, twisting their neck to look at her. “You won’t be saying that when Ava realizes we’re late.”

Her eyes are closed, but Farah’s jaw works at the words. They think they’ve got her. Then she cracks open one amber eye. “Let’s call in sick,” she says instead.

“What,  _both_  of us are sick?” they say, laughing. “Can vampires even get sick?” 

“…No,” Farah admits after a beat. She grins sleepily at them. “What if  _you_  call in sick then? And I, being the doting girlfriend I am, decided it was best if I stayed over and took care of you.”

The Detective’s stomach flips at the casual way Farah refers to herself as their girlfriend. A smile tugs at the corners of their lips. “Uh huh,” they say slowly. “And you really think that would convince Ava?”

Farah’s lips purse. “Maybe?” she says, but it comes out as more of a question. They stare at her. She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine. She might realize it’s a lie. So what?”

“So,” the Detective begins, “I’d rather not have to deal with her tomorrow. Come on. You’re up now, aren’t you?” They try to get up, but only manage to sit before Farah tugs them back.

Their back meets the mattress. Farah slings her leg over so she’s hovering above them, smirking. Her arms cage their head as she leans down, their lips mere inches apart. “Are you  _sure_  you want to get up, Detective?” she purrs.

They swallow thickly. When they open their mouth to respond, wanting to pretend they’re not affected by the proximity, their lips brush against hers. Farah’s brow raises when their heartbeat spikes.  _Stupid vampire hearing_ , they think to themself, flushing.

“Just—Just a few more minutes, okay?” the Detective stammers.

Farah grins. “Just a few more minutes,” she says, before she kisses them, long and deep. Their eyes slip closed, arms coming up to wrap around her neck and pull her down. Farah doesn’t resist.

They’re an hour late to work, much to Ava’s annoyance.


	9. wearing their clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!
> 
> this doesn't feature sexual content, but there is **suggestive content**. tread carefully!

 “That’s my shirt.”

The Detective turns around at the sudden voice, which sounds more confused than accusing. Standing at the mouth of the kitchen is Ava, clad in only a bra and pants, which sit low on her hips. Her hair, usually tied back in a severe bun, is open, waves of dark blonde hair settling onto her shoulders. Even her expression is more open; not soft with sleep, but less tense.

They can’t help smile at the sight, which slants into a smirk once they register her words. “Good morning to you too, Ava,” they say dryly. “I slept well, thanks for asking. And you?”

Ava sighs, but it’s easy to spot the amused curl of her lips. “My morning could be better,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. They can see the defined muscles of her arms flex as she does so, no pesky clothing in the way to obscure it. “I was hoping to change into my clothes when I noticed my shirt missing.”

The Detectives glances down at themself. When they woke up that morning, they hadn’t been able to find their shirt. They’d discarded it… somewhere, too busy focusing on  _other_  things that night; Ava’s dress shirt, however, was right where she’d folded it, with her pants and underwear. When she had done that, the Detective had no idea, but it saved them the trip to their closet.

They’d thrown the shirt on while Ava freshened up in the bathroom, thinking nothing of it. The fact that Ava didn’t have any clothes at their place hadn’t crossed their fatigued mind.

“Good thing I wore it, too, otherwise I’d miss out on this,” the Detective teases, allowing their gaze to linger on Ava’s chest. Which, wow. They could blatantly check Ava out now, without being afraid of getting caught by her or, even worse, Farah.

Ava raises an eyebrow. She walks towards them, slow, her bare feet making no sound against the tiles. “Why would you need to go to such lengths just to see me undressed?” she asks. She’s close enough now that, if they tried, they could reach out and touch her. “You could always just  _ask_ , Detective.”

The Detective blinks, thrown off by Ava’s response. It’s still strange when she acknowledges their advances, even reciprocates them, instead of pulling back and brooding in some corner. That would take some getting used to, too. “I-I…” they sputter, “Uh…”

Ava’s smile sharpens into more of a smirk, her eyes half-lidded but still piercing. She moves closer, crowding the Detective against the kitchen counter. “Will you be returning my shirt now?”

They clear their throat, feeling heat crawl up their neck and settle in their cheeks. “I mean,” they begin. “If you want it, I guess, sure…” They wait for Ava to back up and allow them to go change.

Except she doesn’t. “Here. Let me.” She reaches out and undoes the first button of the dress shirt. Then she undoes the second.

The Detective’s eyes widen in realization. Oh.  _Ohhh_.

“Right,” they say breathlessly, nodding. “Thanks. For the help.”

Ava, focused on her ministrations, looks up at them from beneath her eyelashes. The green of her eyes are darker. Or maybe that’s just their imagination. “You’re very welcome, Detective,” she says, voice low and almost sultry.

The breakfast they had been preparing goes uneaten. But that’s just fine by them.


	10. (dis)approval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

“You’re…  _with_  her?” A headache pounds away at Rebecca’s temple. She resists the urge to squeeze her eyes shut, as if that will transport her away from this situation. She keeps her eyes open and narrowed on her subordinate instead.

Nat looks vaguely pained by the conversation herself. “Yes,” she admits. “The Detective and I are involved.”

As much as she wishes it weren’t true, Rebecca has to admit there were signs. She had seen the way the two looked at each other, their eyes soft and smiles wide. They stood close together when given the chance, angled towards each other even when they weren’t deep in conversation. Nat was protective of her daughter in a way the other agents weren’t.

Yes, Rebecca knew there was something there. She just hadn’t realized how deep the sentiments ran, or that they were in a  _relationship_.

Rebecca purses her lips. “And how long has this been going on, without my knowledge?” She’s unable to temper her voice, which is filled with anger and disbelief.

“It has been a few weeks now, give or take,” Nat answers, before she sighs. She drops her professional tone, sounding almost pleading now. “It wasn’t something I planned on, Rebecca. But the… your daughter makes it hard  _not_  to like her.”

Despite herself, Rebecca finds the taut line of her shoulders softening. She loves her daughter, and she admires Nat. After years of working closely on countless cases, she knows she is a good person.

In another world, Rebecca would be glad to know Nat was dating her daughter. Relieved, even. There are worse people out there.

Just not in this one.

Rebecca pinches the bridge of her nose. “I see.” After a moment, she looks back up at Nat. There are a hundred things she wants to say, to do. “I won’t tell you to break things off with her. I may be her mother and your superior, but that isn’t… something I can do. Or wish to.” She pauses. “I’ll be frank. As much as I respect you, Nat, I’m concerned about the threat your relationship could pose to my daughter.“

Nat nods, her features soft with understanding. Which makes this all the more harder. “I know. But with all due respect, she’s already in danger, for a host of reasons. I… I know the dangers I could pose, and I’m doing my best to keep it under control. I  _want_  to make this work. I care a great deal for your daughter.”

Rebecca smiles at that, for the first time since the conversation began. “I know. Which is the only reason I approve.” Nat’s eyes widen at the words. She clearly hadn’t expected to hear that. “Not that that means much, of course. But you have it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nat smiles back, relief shining through every crease in her features. “Your approval means a lot to me, Rebecca.”

Rebecca nods. There isn’t anything else left to say. Nat rests a hand on her desk, gratitude in her eyes, before turning to walk out of her office. She watches her back retreat, until a hand reaches out for the doorknob.

“Nat,” she calls out, before she can think better of it. The woman in question looks over her shoulder. “Just… be careful. Please.”

Nat dips her chin in a nod. “I will, Rebecca.” The words almost sound like a promise.

When the door clicks closed behind her, Rebecca slumps back in her chair. She rubs at her temple. It does nothing to assuage her headache.

Hopefully, she hadn’t just made a mistake.


	11. hurts to be close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by avadumortain!
> 
> love triangle? what love triangle? we only acknowledge the polyam route with nat and ava here!

She’s not looking at them. She’s  _not_.

Ava keeps her body parallel to the window before her, her back a firm line and hands folded behind her. Her eyes are trained resolutely on the transparent glass, but she isn’t taking in the greenery. Instead, she’s lost in thoughts. Or rather, suppressing each and every one that springs, stubborn, to the surface.

She can’t afford to focus on the two heartbeats behind her, the soft murmur of conversation that is interrupted now and then by laughter. No matter how much a part of her unspools at the voices, the sounds of atriums and ventricles opening and closing, that she would be able to recognize from miles away.

And yet, it’s impossible  _not_  to notice them.

A hand tightens into a fist, skin pulling taut across knuckles. Suddenly, the urge to throw a punch at a solid object that will break under the force is extremely tempting.

“Oh, I know that look,” comes a sly voice from beside Ava. The urge grows stronger. “It’s the _thousands of dollars in property damage incoming_ look.” Ava’s jaw tics, but that is the only outward sign she heard Farah.

It isn’t enough to deter the younger agent. If anything, the reaction spurs her on.

Farah cocks her head to the side. “Whatever could it be that’s got our fearless leader so upset?” she says aloud, pretending to be confused. “Maybe… it’s how well Nat and the Detective are getting along?”

Ava’s teeth grind together, but she knows better to respond.

“But what is she most upset by,” Farah ponders, a short manicured finger tapping her chin, “That the Detective likes Nat, or that Nat likes them back?” Ava bristles at the words, barely able to hold back a snarl.

Farah is quiet for a long moment, to Ava’s surprise. Then she’s distracted by movement in the window’s reflection. The Detective, reaching out and resting a gentle hand on the stretch of Nat’s arm. Nat stares at them, enraptured.

Ava’s chest feels tighter all of a sudden.

Farah speaks again. “No, that’s not it.” Her voice is softer now. Almost plaintive. “Maybe she’s upset that she wants both of—”

“That’s enough!” Ava snaps. She doesn’t need to check to know Nat and the Detective are looking over now.

“Farah, leave Ava alone,” Nat says, sounding weary but firm. Ava can’t stop her shoulders from twitching, hearing her name come from her old friend’s lips. It’s nothing new. Yet feelings she thought she’d set aside, years ago, rush forth anyway.

“Fine,” Farah sighs, holding her hands up. “Wasn’t like I was saying anything  _wrong_ …” That last part is muttered under her breath. In the reflection, Ava sees Nat furrow her brows, confused. The Detective is oblivious.

Ava forces herself to speak. “I need to speak with Rebecca. About the case.” The words come out stilted, even to her ears.

The Detective takes a step forward. “Is everything—”

“Excuse me,” Ava interrupts. She doesn’t want their concern. She doesn’t want… anything.  _Hopefully, one day soon, that will be true._

Quickly, she makes her way to the door, wrenching it open with more force than necessary. Then she’s gone, without looking behind her once. But the distance, that grows with every step she takes, does nothing to staunch the turmoil inside her.


	12. i'll admit, i'm a fool for you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was originally supposed to have sexual content, but i decided to write two versions. this one is the tame one lmao, but there’s still some **suggestive content**. tread carefully!

You smooth a hand down over your clothes, turning this way and that as you stand before the mirror. The Agency supposedly hosts its fair share of balls which, as the new—and first—human liaison of Wayhaven, you must attend. Which is why you’re currently wearing the nicest formal attire you own, trying to tamp down your nervousness. Who knows how the night will go?

 _At least Unit Bravo will be there_ , you tell yourself. The thought makes you feel better, if only slightly. It’s not like you’re being thrown to the wolves—even if it  _is_  likely that there will be werewolves present at the ball. You snort. Farah’s clearly been rubbing off on you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. It sounds once, twice, three times in succession. Someone’s impatient.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” you call out, somewhat annoyed, as you walk to the front door. You open it to see Morgan on the other side, who’s sporting an impressive scowl.

“Finally,” she says. “Let’s go. The others are already at the venue.” You aren’t sure if she was going to say more, because then her eyes take in your figure. Morgan’s brows raise at the sight of your attire. A wolfish smile lifts her lips. “Well. Don’t you clean up nice.”

You flush despite yourself. “Thanks. I think. And you’re…” you begin, examining her outfit. When you heard the ball was a black tie event, you were unsure what to expect from Morgan. She isn’t the type to dress up. At all. To your surprise, she did.

Morgan’s wearing a deep maroon suit, the material fitted and almost clinging to her figure in some places. The suit jacket is unbuttoned, showing off the white dress shirt she’s wearing beneath. You can just glimpse the black cord of her crystal necklace, tucked underneath the shirt, out of sight. Her dark hair falls in waves around her face, not styled a particular way but neat and combed.

In short, Morgan looks  _good_ … if it hadn’t been for the fact that her dress shirt is rumpled and untucked, and her matching maroon tie isn’t tied. You resist the urge to sigh. That’s more in line with the Morgan you know.

“What?” she says rudely, having noticed your expression.

“You couldn’t tie your tie? Or tuck your shirt in, at least?” you ask, brow held aloft.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m wearing a suit. That’s enough.”

You decide not to push further, instead moving back so she can enter. “I’m almost ready. I just need a few more minutes.”

Morgan frowns at the response, but she steps inside. You close the door behind her. “You’re _still_  not ready?”

“It’s a ball, Morgan. It takes time to dress appropriately for this type of event,” you sigh, walking past her. You step into your bedroom to put on the accessories you’ve picked out for the occasion. As you do, you spot Morgan in the dresser mirror.

She’s settled against the door frame, watching you with a bored expression. Nothing out of the ordinary. But the pose causes her halfway buttoned shirt to stretch wider, giving you a glimpse of the black bra she’s wearing underneath. Your mouth is suddenly dry.

Grey eyes meet yours in the mirror, catching you looking. Morgan’s lips widen into a smirk. “See something you like, Detective?” she all but purrs.

You startle. You hadn’t even realized how long you’d been staring at her. Glancing away quickly, you clear your throat and say, “I-I’m almost done.”

“You know,” Morgan says, tilting her head. The tips of her hair ghosts along her collarbone, a trail you wish you could follow. You can almost  _feel_  her gaze raking over your form, slow as molasses. “No one would notice if we showed up a little later…”

You sputter, feeling heat crawl up your neck. “I— _no_ —we’re going,” you manage to say. “Right now.” You slip on your shoes, which you had grabbed from your closet. “There. All done.”

Morgan huffs. “Whatever,” she mutters. Her tone, which had previously been sultry, returns to its usual cold drawl. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

You make your way to the door, where Morgan’s waiting, when your gaze lands on her tie. It looks pitiful around her neck, the ends crumpled and limp. You cast your eyes up at the ceiling, sighing, before you stalk forward.

“About damn time.” Morgan pushes off the door frame, expecting you to move past her. She blinks when you stop in front of her instead, momentarily taken aback. Then she grins. “What, you change your—”

“It hurts to look at you,” is all you say, before you reach out. Your fingers grasp a plastic button, one of the ones Morgan hadn’t fastened. You expect her to step back, or push your hands away, but she only scoffs. You take that to mean she doesn’t mind.

You begin buttoning up her shirt. You make sure not to linger long on a button, or ogle the exposed skin that is covered up, inch by inch. Morgan already caught you staring; you’d rather not be embarrassed  _twice_. You fasten the last button and move onto her tie.

As you do, you finally register how quiet it is. Morgan has yet to shift and complain about how long it’s been, or even say a word. She just breathes, her chest moving slightly under your ministrations.

You peek up at her, curious. And nearly jolt when you realize how close she is. You’d been so intent on fixing her suit that you hadn’t noticed.

What’s more startling, however, is the look on her face. Morgan’s brow is furrowed, and she’s staring at you with a strangely serious expression. It’s almost as if she’s studying you. Trying to figure you out.

You gaze into her stormy grey eyes, your hands still grasping her tie, task forgotten. You find it difficult to look away, as if her stare is the only thing tethering you to Earth. The smell of cigarette smoke settles over you, and underneath it, sandalwood. Your body sways closer to her, being pulled into her orbit; your stomach brushes hers, a whisper of a touch.

Morgan blinks, frowning, at the touch. It seems to snap her out of her thoughts, whatever they were. Her expression shutters closed instantly, becoming inscrutable. The pull you’d felt, suddenly, is gone.

“Morgan—” you say, tongue thick and clumsy in your mouth. Only to cut yourself off when she yanks her tie out of your grip.

“We’re getting late,” Morgan bites out, her eyes cold and hard. She turns on her heel and walks away, leaving behind the scent of sandalwood. For a brief moment, your eyes slip closed. You gather yourself, feeling oddly exposed by the wordless exchange.

Then you sigh, open your eyes, and follow after her. You have a ball to attend, after all.


	13. you make me smile (stay for a while)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon requested something with nat, so i delivered!

“That was horrible,” you say, shutting the door behind you firmly. The sound of rain, falling from the sky like icy bullets, quiets some, but you can still hear it pounding against the roof of the apartment. You toe your shoes off, before leaning down to peel off your soaked socks. “I should’ve checked the weather before our walk.”

Beside you, her shoulders bunched up to her ears, Nat smiles. “It’s not your fault, Detective. I should have realized it was about to pour sooner.”

You raise a brow at that, your arms folding over your chest in a poor attempt to produce body heat. “What, can you  _smell_  the rain coming or something?” Nat’s mouth ticks to one side at that, as if considering. Your eyes widen. “Wait, really? You can smell the rain coming?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, but essentially… yes,” she says, chuckling at your surprise. Her amusement disappears as she rakes her eyes over your sodden form. Her brow furrows. “By the time I realized it was about to rain, it was too late.”

You can tell she’s blaming herself for you getting caught in the rain. You’re about to tell her not to worry, that you’re fine, really, when Nat reaches out a hand. Her fingertips, freezing yet gentle, brush against your cheekbone. Your breath is caught in your chest. “I’m afraid it happens a lot, when I’m with you,” she says. It’s almost hard to hear her over the rain, her voice is so quiet.

Your eyes are caught in her warm gaze. “What… What happens?” you say, the words heavy in your mouth.

Nat takes a step closer to you. Her jacket is brushing your stomach now. “I lose focus on the world around me,” she admits. “It’s hard to think about anything except for you.”

You swallow hard. Nat’s other hand joins the first, so she’s cradling your face. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you manage to say.

Your hands come up and loosely encircle her wrists. You can feel her heartbeat there, pulsing. It’s faster than normal.  _Good_ , you think. So she’s as affected by this as you are.

“No,” Nat murmurs. Her breath puffs against your mouth, and you shiver involuntarily. “It’s not.”

When she leans down to kiss you, you balance on the tips of your toes to meet her. You can taste rainwater on her lips, feel her wet jacket plaster against your own soaked clothing. Instead of pulling away, you pull her closer. Her lips curve into a smile.

All too soon, Nat breaks away. “We should… probably warm up,” she says, the words coming out almost breathless.

“We should,” you agree, nodding your head. But you don’t move out of her space. Instead, you lean your cheek against her chest.

She laughs, a hand curving around to the back of your head. The other rests between your shoulders. “Detective?”

You wrap your arms around her waist. “What? I’m warming myself up.”

“Maybe we should move this to the living room,” Nat suggests, though there’s no disguising the fondness in her tone. “And find ourselves some towels.”

You purse your lips, considering. “That does sound nice…”

“We can cuddle on the couch after.”

You move back and grin up at her. “Even better.”

Her eyes almost twinkle at you. “I agree,” she says, before she gently guides you through the apartment. It’s as if she knows it like the back of her hand. You suppose she does; she’s been here enough times. Strangely, the thought warms you to the core.

Some time later, the two of you sit together on the living room couch, damp towels discarded on the adjacent cushion. Your cheek rests on Nat’s shoulder, her arm snug around you. You close your eyes and breathe her in.

Outside, the rain continues to strike the roof, loud and relentless. But it’s almost soothing now. Much like the presence of the woman beside you.


	14. like lightning in a bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a request this time around! i channeled miss seraphinitegames and went to write scenarios for unit bravo, centered around their reactions to stumbling on the detective after their shower… only for my motivation to dwindle after writing ava and morgan’s rip.
> 
> if people like these (and don’t mind reading two more identical scenarios lmao), i might write nat and farah’s. we’ll see!

> **Ava**

You wrap the towel around your body, cursing yourself for not having remembered to bring your clothes inside the bathroom. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but with Unit Bravo currently in your house, it is.

You stand by the closed door, listening, and don’t hear anything. There’s conversation coming from the kitchen and living room, but the hallway is clear.

Taking a deep breath, you tighten the towel around you before opening the door. Shivering against the cold air, you step outside. Your gaze focused on the bedroom door, which hangs ajar, you hasten your stride. You’re almost there…

Then Ava appears around the corner, walking towards you. “Detective, you are taking an awfully long—”

You nearly collide into her chest, you’re so thrown off-guard by her sudden presence. Reflexively, Ava’s hands shoot out and clutch your shoulders, helping you remain on your feet. The two of you stare at each other, shocked. Several beats pass.

Ava blinks at you. Then her gaze lowers, noticing your attire. Or lack thereof. Despite the deeply embarrassing situation, you can’t help feel somewhat amused by the way her eyes widen and her mouth drops open.

“You—” Ava attempts, her voice coming out strangled. Her eyes flash up to meet your own. She very pointedly doesn’t look down again.

Mortification catches up to you by this point. You feel a flush forming in your cheeks. “I… I forgot my clothes,” you stammer. “In my… bedroom.”

Ava’s jaw works, but she doesn’t say a word. Then she seems to remember she’s still touching you, because she jolts and takes a large step back, removing her hands from your shoulders. You involuntarily shiver at the loss of heat.

“Nat is making breakfast. For you,” Ava says, a touch too loud. With that, she swivels on her heels and marches back the way she came. You catch only a brief glimpse, but you’re sure the tips of her ears are pink.

You swallow hard, fold your arms over your chest, and march into the bedroom. Already you're wondering what to say to her when you see her next.

> **Morgan**

Once you’ve secured your towel around yourself, you release a deep breath. Taking care to drip as little on the floor as possible, you open the bathroom door and stick your head outside. Knowing how ridiculous you must look, you glance around, finding the hallway deserted.

“Thank god,” you mutter under your breath. Squaring your shoulders, you cross the threshold.

The blast of cold air sends chills down your spine, but you think instead about making it to your bedroom. There, at least, there will be no danger of Unit Bravo spotting you in nothing but a towel.

Thankfully, you make it to your bedroom unseen. A breath of relief leaves you as you close the door behind yourself. Turning, you spot your clothes spread out over your bed.

With that, you loosen the towel wrapped around your body, just as a harsh knock sounds at your bedroom door. Before you can even think to respond, the door creaks open.

“Hurry it up or we’re leaving without you,” Morgan says, her voice a displeased grumble. Her brows, pulled tight into a furrow, arch at the sight of you. Then a long smile appears on her features. “Unless you’d rather we stay right here…”

Reddening, you tighten your grip on the towel. “Would it kill you to knock before you enter!” you snap, flustered.

Instead of apologizing, Morgan just leans against the doorjamb. Her eyes remain fixed on you. You try not to think about how warm her gaze makes you. “I knocked this time.”

“Then—just—wait until I say you can come in!” Your blush only grows worse, spreading to your chest.

“If I get greeted like this every time, I’m not sure I will,” she says, the words almost a purr. But she pushes herself off the jamb, standing upright. “Get dressed, and  _quick_ , or we’re leaving you here.” With those lovely parting words, she turns and leaves, shutting the door behind her.

You scoff, stomping towards the door, and lock it. Your heart continues to hammer in your chest. As you move to get dressed, you try not to think about what might have happened if you had taken Morgan up on her offer.

Because you _wouldn’t_. Of course not…


	15. "let's do dishes together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by avadumortain!

Farah peers into the dishwasher, her brow wrinkled. “Isn’t this thing supposed to  _wash_  the dishes? I thought that was the point of the name.”

The Detective rolls their eyes. “Yes, Farah. It is.” They nudge her out of the way, ignoring her mock affronted gasp. “But it’s broken. So I’m going to have to clean all of these by hand for now. Until I can get it fixed.”

“By hand?” Farah tilts her head to the side, the movement almost birdlike. “Those are a lot of dishes to clean…”

“Yeah, well. It’s either I do that or eat right off the kitchen table.” The Detective begins unloading the dishwasher, stacking the dishes on the counter. They think the flighty agent with wander off and find something more interesting to occupy her time now. Farah watches them instead, completely silent. It’s unnerving.

Before the Detective can question her about it, Farah breaks the silence. “Let’s do dishes together.”

They straighten up at that, taken aback. The Detective turns around to see Farah rolling up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing her toned forearms. It’s a struggle to tear their gaze away. “What, you want to help?” they ask.

She shrugs nonchalantly. “There’s not much else to do.” Then she grins, her eyes almost twinkling. “Plus, I’ll get to spend more time with my  _favourite_  detective.”

The Detective scoffs, turning away to hide how flustered the remark made them. “I’m the only detective you know.”

“You’re still my favourite,” she insists. They nearly jump when she moves to stand next to them. Their bodies brush due to the proximity. “So, we just need to soak them in water, right?”

“Um, pretty much,” they stammer, before clearing their throat. “I can wash. You dry.” They grab the hand cloth resting near the sink and hold it out to her.

“Sounds good,” Farah says, still smiling. She takes the cloth from them, her fingers lingering longer than necessary. The soft pads of her fingers skate over their open palm. The Detective is struck with the urge to reach out and take her hand.

They don’t, obviously. They pull away, swallowing hard, and begin washing. Farah follows them the short distance to the sink, standing beside them as they do. The heat of her body seeps into their own.

Every time they hand a dish to Farah to wash, her touch lingers. The Detective doesn’t say anything, but the back of their neck flushes pink. By the way she smirks and chuckles under her breath, Farah is well aware of it.

For once, though, she doesn’t point it out. They aren’t sure if they’re relieved or disappointed.


	16. little wonders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!

The tentative silence in the room is broken by the doors slamming open. Morgan instinctively flinches at the sound, amplified even  _more_  due to her sensitivity. Scowling, she turns to see the youngest member of Unit Bravo standing there, beaming. It’s unsurprising—who else could the noisy arrival have been?—but there’s an almost manic slant to Farah’s smile.

Morgan’s spine stiffens, the reaction once again involuntary. Something is up.

Nat must have a similar thought, since she slowly sets her book aside and asks, “Is something the matter, Farah?”

“Uh, yeah!” she says, as if it should be obvious. Her eyes flit from one person to the next. “Did you guys not check your phones in the past hour?” She’s bouncing on her toes now.

Ava’s brow furrows. “Are you referring to the Detective’s message?” At Farah’s nod, she admits, “I didn’t check it. It was a video. They send those all the time when we’re away on work.”

Nat looks sheepish when Farah turns to her. “It refused to play... Why, what was it?”

Farah clicks her tongue instead of answering, her gaze settling on Morgan last. She says nothing, just stares back. Morgan barely checks messages as it is; she can’t be bothered to respond to frivolous ones that clearly aren’t important.

“You’re all unbelievable,” she finally huffs, rolling her eyes. “My kid is walking now— _on her own_ —and none of you cared to see it!”

Ava blinks at the words, taken aback. “She’s walking? Already?”

Nat’s eyes are blown wide. She pulls her own phone out of her jean pocket within seconds, frowning down at it. She opens it before tapping on the screen a few times, growing annoyed. “How do I watch it on this blasted thing?”

Farah brightens at their reactions, rushing over with her enhanced speed. She’s still bouncing on her toes as she plays the video on Nat’s phone. From her spot on the couch, legs spread as if to discourage anyone from joining her, Morgan can clearly hear the Detective’s cooing. Then there’s the sound of bare feet against tile; hesitant, wobbly, but continuous. The Detective’s voice grows louder in excitement.

Nat is smiling wide enough to rival Farah’s own grin. Even Ava shuffles over, arms crossed, to peer at the phone, a rare, soft look eclipsing her features. They make an amusing sight, standing side by side—Ava and Nat, both of them over six feet tall, dwarf Farah.

“Look at her!” Farah exclaims, smiling dopily down at the plastic. “She could barely take one step without one of us holding onto her, now she’s walking all on her own.”

“It’s… impressive,” Ava says. An odd cadence has slipped into her voice. Morgan doesn’t care to figure out what it means.

Farah looks up and squints at their leader. “Well, well. Would you look at that.” Her voice becomes teasing, a sly smirk lifting her lips. “Auntie Ava is  _smiling_.”

Ava steps away, her face blank. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“It’s okay to admit it, you know. You l _ooo_ ve my daughter.” Farah practically skips over to the couch, draping herself over it. Morgan frowns when she puts her feet in her lap, immediately throwing them off. Farah doesn’t react. She holds her phone above her head, replaying the video. “It’s totally understandable. She’s adorable.”

Morgan rolls her eyes and stands up. “I need a smoke.” At this location, agents were advised to smoke outside the facility. For once she didn’t mind. Preferred it, even.

Nat grimaces, as she usually does, but nods. She turns to her phone, carefully tapping on the surface. Sending a message to the Detective, no doubt. Ava returns to the novel she was reading. The only sound comes from Farah’s phone.

Morgan slips out the door and heads outside, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. She leans against the side of the building, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply. She breathes out smoke in a steady, uninterrupted stream. Then she shuffles her feet, sighs, and takes out her phone.

It takes little effort to open her messages. In the group chat Farah insisted on making, immediately after the Detective had stupidly told her what a group chat was, is the video. Nat’s still typing.

As Morgan brings the cigarette to her lips once more, she presses on the video. It plays. And if, while exhaling smoke, she grins, at least no one sees it.


	17. a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!
> 
> oh bitch an update on halloween... sweet ajfmksj sorry it features my detective priya bakshi, and not an nameless one... but a rly kind anon requested nat/priya and who am i to say no?
> 
> anyway i hope this makes up for how long it’s been since i’ve written fic rip

Priya’s never going to be used to this. The final confrontation between Unit Bravo and the latest threat to Wayhaven is over, the supernatural out for her blood passed out cold. The forest around them is silent, not even the sound of crickets filling the air. Her heartbeat thunders in her ears as she pushes herself up on an elbow, groaning in pain.

She jumps when Nat suddenly appears before her. Her eyes are wide with concern. “Priya,” she breathes, cupping her cheeks with her palms. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Priya assures her, a corner of her mouth lifting into a weak smile. “Nothing’s broken. I don’t think so, anyway.” Her heart continues to pound against her ribcage. She’s sure her arms are trembling from exhaustion. “And you? Are you hurt? You got thrown pretty hard yourself.”

Nat shakes her head. “Already healed,” she says, brushing off the question. “ _You_ , on the other hand, aren’t.” The vampire rakes her eyes over her form, taking in Priya’s disheveled state. For once, she’s too sore to grow self-conscious.

Nat’s thumb rubs over the swell of her cheekbone. The touch distracts her from the pain. “Your heart’s racing,” she notes, brow furrowed.

“Adrenaline,” Priya explains, sitting up. Conveniently, there’s a tree trunk behind her (the very one she had been thrown at and pinned against moments ago). She leans against it. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much of a workout since… well, since last time we did this.”

For the first time that night, a smile plays on Nat’s lips. It lights up her features, erasing the worry etched there previously. “We best not make a habit of it then.”

“A little too late for that,” she says, grinning now. Realization is creeping in now, followed closely by relief. They did it. Sure, they have bumps and scrapes, but they’re all mostly unharmed.  _Alive_.

The elation from this knowledge, and the adrenaline still pumping through her system, must be why Priya does it. One moment, the two of them are smiling at each other, as if there’s no one else in the world; the next, she has leaned over and kissed the smile on Nat’s mouth.

It’s not the first kiss they have shared. It is, however, the first one Priya’s initiated. She nearly pulls back when she feels Nat stiffen against her. Then she melts. A hand smooths over Priya’s jaw, gently tilting her head back.

Soon Nat’s leading and Priya is doing all she can to follow, her heart hammering worse than before. Her fingers dig into the leather of Nat’s jacket, the fabric crinkling in her grip. Her focus has narrowed to Nat’s mouth and hands. Nothing else matters.

“Uhhh…” comes a voice from nearby, dripping with both hesitation and glee. “You think they forgot we’re still here?”

A deep sigh answers the voice.

Priya’s eyes snap open (when had they even closed?). She pulls away, nearly hitting her head against the tree trunk in her haste. Her cheeks are on fire. Nat, on the other hand, doesn’t look the slightest bit ruffled. If anything, she’s  _amused_. Over her shoulder, Priya spots the rest of Unit Bravo.

They’ve been there the entire time. Of course. How did that detail slip her mind?

“Um! So!” she squeaks. “Good job, everyone!”

“You too, Detective,” Farah says, smirking. “From what I saw, your technique was pretty good.”

Ava closes her eyes. “ _Farah_.”

The vampire widens her eyes in faux innocence. “I was talking about her fighting skills. What did you think I meant?”

As Ava glowers at Farah, and Morgan takes another drag of her cigarette, Priya lowers her face into her hands. Yeah. There’s no way she’s getting used to this.

She glances up when she hears a warm chuckle. Her eyes fall upon Nat, who smiles at her. There’s a bit of dirt smudged on her cheek, as well as blood on the side of her mouth from a wound that’s already closed up. Still, she looks as beautiful as the day she first stepped into her office, all those months ago. Or, God, has it been a year now?

 _I suppose it’s not completely bad, this human liaison job_ , Priya thinks, smiling back at Nat.


	18. "you are very endearing when you are half-asleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon!
> 
> i wanted to write something for nat since it's her birthday today (nov. 4), so here we are! not my best work, for sure, but i'm still rusty after all this time rip. anywhom, happy birthday to an icon, nat sewell!

“Are you tired?” The question startles the Detective out of her reverie. “You don’t have to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position. We have extra bedrooms here, if you’d like to use one.”

The Detective blinks her eyes open, which have been half-lidded for the past half hour. “No, I’m fine. Really,” she insists. The yawn she tries and fails to suppress, however, says otherwise.

A chin comes to rest on her shoulder. “Is that so?” Nat says with a huff of a laugh; even that sounds dignified coming from her. “From what I remember, you have been staying late at the station these past few days.” A tinge of worry emerges in her tone. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

The Detective sighs. It isn’t that she  _doesn’t want_  to sleep. Exhaustion clings to her, making her words slurred and movements sluggish. But she wants to fight it off, at least for a little while longer. “I will. Later.”

Beside her, Nat shifts, as if moving to get up. Almost instinctively, she rests a hand on the vampire’s arm. Nat stills. “Detective?”

“Sorry, I just… I thought…” She lets out a deep breath, pointedly not looking over at Nat. “We spent so many months apart, and now we’re finally spending time again. I wanted to… enjoy it.” The words fluster her, despite  _her_  being the person who spoke them.

Quietly, Nat sets down the novel in her hands. Then she winds her arms around the Detective’s waist, leaning back against the couch. It’s one of the many opulent pieces of furniture in Nat and Ava’s sprawling library, located in Unit Bravo’s hideaway. Nat had suggested they stay there a while and read; the Detective readily accepted.

Eventually, they ended up sitting side by side, reading their own books in comfortable silence. The sound of their breathing and the turning of pages soothed the Detective. So much so that she found her novel slipping from her grasp, her eyes closing of their own accord.

But she doesn’t want to sleep yet. That would mean leaving Nat, whose presence calms and excites her all at the same time.

Nat presses her cheek against the Detective’s temple. She chuckles, her breath stirring strands of her hair. “You are very endearing when you are half-asleep,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind more time with you, Detective… but not at the expense of your health.”

The Detective frowns to herself. “Okay, I understand,” she says, defeated. When she moves to stand up, however, Nat doesn’t relinquish her grip on her.

Nat only pulls back to look at her, an amused slant to her mouth. “Perhaps a compromise is in order,” she says playfully. “You can remain here, with me…  _and_  get some sleep.”

The Detective blinks. “Um. Right here?”

Nat nods. “Right here.”

Within moments, their books are set on the table so that they can lie down on the couch. The Detective rests her cheek on Nat’s chest, Nat’s arms wrapped loosely around her. The vampire’s steady heartbeat and comforting presence is enough for her to close her eyes and, finally, fall asleep.


	19. "i want to stay up with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by two lovely anons!
> 
> originally i hadn't been sure how a nat/ava/detective dynamic would work, exactly, but i really feel it would go a little like this.

“This is ridiculous,” Ava says, exasperated. “Detective, go to  _sleep_.”

“Hm? What?” The Detective lifts their head, not having realized they were moments away from napping on their living room table.

Nat smiles softly at them from the couch. “Ava is right,” she says. “It is late. You require at least eight hours of sleep to be well-rested tomorrow.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” the Detective insists. They shuffle the papers in front of them in the hopes of looking busy. They don’t need to look to know that it doesn’t convince either vampire. “What did I miss?”

Ava scowls, leaning forward in the armchair. “There is no need for you to stay awake. We’re not likely to make any headway in the case tonight. All you will be doing is putting us at a disadvantage tomorrow.”

It’s difficult not to wince at the words. The Detective turns away to mask their hurt, missing the disappointed look Nat sends Ava as well as the regret that washes over Ava’s features.

“I meant,” she attempts once more, “that we need you at your best tomorrow. As admirable as your work ethic is, it isn’t healthy for a human to forego sleep.”

“Right, of course,” the Detective murmurs, feeling chastised. “I just… I want to stay up with you, I suppose.” Their relationship is new and overwhelming. Any time away from Nat and Ava feels  _wrong_. Even for something as important and unavoidable as a good night’s sleep.

Nat and Ava share a look, able to communicate without words. With how long they have known each other, it’s not unusual for them. Nat raises her eyebrows; Ava scrunches hers.

“Well,” Nat smiles after a moment, “it’s not as if there is much we can do at the moment. We could all use a breather.”

The Detective blinks at that, but Ava sighs and nods. She reclines in the armchair; it’s barely noticeable, but the tense line of her shoulders loosens and the perpetual furrow between her brows smooths out. Nat sets the file she had been meticulously going through on the table.

They purse their lips, eyeing the empty spot beside Nat. It’s very inviting. When she smiles at them, eyes bright beneath the faint light in the room, they get up from their crosslegged position on the floor. Nat already knows what’s on their mind; she lifts an arm, allowing them to snuggle in against her side. They rest their cheek on her shoulder, breathing in the lingering scent of her perfume.

Ava eyes them from the armchair, amused, before intertwining her fingers over her stomach. The Detective frowns. Perhaps it had been presumptuous of them to hope she would move closer.

“Really?” The question leaves them before they can think better of it. Ava raises a brow. “You’re not going to join us?”

Nat’s shoulders shake as she chuckles. “Ava is not the cuddling type, I’m afraid.”

The Detective yawns. “The muscles must make it hard.”

Ava scoffs, but a corner of her mouth twists into a grin. “It probably isn’t the best experience.”

“Not the worst, either,” Nat jokes.

There’s a beat of silence, then the Detective huffs. “Well? Get over here already.”

Ava actually laughs at that. Still, she stands up from the armchair and walks around the table. “I hadn’t realized that was an invitation.”

“Yeah, well, it was,” is their witty response. They move their legs to make room for Ava, before setting them in her lap. She doesn’t mind, resting her hands on their ankles without complaint.

Silence descends upon the three of them, for longer this time. With Nat’s fingers running through their hair and Ava’s reassuring presence nearby, the Detective finds their eyelids drooping. Their fatigue is quickly catching up to them.

“Damn,” they murmur, “this was just a ploy to get me to fall asleep, wasn’t it?”

Ava snorts. “Maybe so.”

Nat simply presses a kiss on their brow. “Sweet dreams, Detective.”


	20. of baked goods and pep talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in response to an ask meme.
> 
> i know, it's been so long since i've written something. here's hoping i write more this year, and not just self-indulgent stuff sjkfmdj

“I don’t think Morgan likes me,” Priya says, wincing. “At all.”

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out. The first time they met, Morgan didn’t bother to shake her outstretched hand, and just blew smoke when Priya asked her not to smoke in her office. When she wasn’t ignoring her existence entirely, the vampire would loudly protest Priya’s involvement, and she  _still_  isn’t enthused to work with her.

This knowledge has Priya’s stomach in knots. She hates being on someone’s bad side, especially when she hasn’t done anything to deserve it. Hence her coming to Farah, to figure out how to solve this conundrum.

Farah only snorts, waving a hand dismissively. “Morgan doesn’t like anyone.”

“Is that… meant to be comforting? Because it really isn’t.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much about it. That’s how she starts off with everyone. She’ll get used to having you around, give or take a few years.”

Priya’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry,  _years_? That’s how long until she stops trying to glare me to death?”

“Oh, no. She’ll never stop doing that,” Farah says cheerfully.

Priya groans, feeling a strong urge to drop her head on the table. Only the fact that they’re in public stops her. She takes a despondent bite of her chocolate croissant instead. Even the sweet, flakey baked good doesn’t brighten her spirits.

“This is just great,” Priya grumbles. “So Ava  _and_  Morgan don’t like me.” At least Ava’s reasons make sense. Their very principles clash—Ava is too emotionless, preferring cold logic, whereas Priya is guided by her emotions. What’s Morgan’s excuse?

“It’s not that they don’t like you,” Farah says. “It’s more that they don’t like humans. As like, a species. Since you are one, they don’t like you by default.”

Priya frowns. “Oh. Cool. That makes me feel much better.”

“You’re welcome.” Farah smiles. There’s no way to know if the sarcasm went over her head or not. “And anyway, I think they’re warming up to you.”

“Uh… they are?” She finds that  _very_  hard to believe.

“Totally. You helped us take down Murphy, and you’re one of the few…” Farah looks around Haley’s Bakery, which is busy since it’s lunch time, before lowering her voice. Nat would be proud. “ _Humans_  who hasn’t been terrified after finding out about us.”

The detective scoffs. “Oh, I was definitely terrified when I found out. Of everything in general, that is, not of you guys specifically.”

“Believe it or not, that’s still good. Plus, I like you, and Nat  _definitely_  likes you.” Priya can’t help flush at the mention of Nat. Farah grins knowingly. “You’re already part of the unit—pretty soon, Ava and Morgan will tolerate you as much as they do me. More, probably.”

A small smile plays along Priya’s lips. “That… actually makes me feel better.”

“Of course it does. I’m great at pep talks.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Just as Farah purses her lips at that, Haley walks up to their table. “Um, how’s everything here? Good?” She looks at Priya as she asks this, seemingly flustered by Farah’s presence.

Something the vampire quickly picks up on. She leans forward in her chair, resting her chin on her palm. “Much better now that you’re here,” she flirts shamelessly.

Haley visibly pinkens, which only encourages Farah. Priya sighs. As relieved as the conversation made her, perhaps it would’ve been better to have it somewhere  _else_ …


End file.
